The Bureaucrats (Joke)

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Ha ha, Harold! Have I got the best act for you! It's the best! You're the best! I want your pants down.

A scruffy, wearied Jimbo Wales walks into a talent agent's office, carrying a suspicious golden suitcase in his right hand. Jimbo's sudden entry startles the talent agent, who nearly drops his Sudoku. Jimmy reeks of wine and gravel, a sure sign that he and Angela have been clubbing nonstop for the past week.

The talent agent rolls his eyes and reaches for the Security Buzzer, but Jimbo's thick, matted hand blocks his path.

"Oh boy, Harold, have I got an act for you today!" the Wikipedia founder declares in a slur, "don't throw me out just yet, I swear you'll like it. It's a group act, you see?"

The talent agent, who we now know as Harold Leecher, an investment banker fifty-five years young that Jimbo once experimented with in summer camp, remains unimpressed. He speaks: "I was looking forward to a long night with just me, my Sudoku, and two bottles of K-Y Jelly, Jimbo... but since you're here, I can't possibly turn you down, can I? Fine, show me your act. It better be good."

Jimbo's face lights up gleefully as his hands start uncontrollably clapping. He regains his composure and runs out of the room, apparently gathering up the rest of his troupe, and with two finger snaps the bit begins.

Contents

The patriarch of the family struts into the room, head to toe in ritzy formal wear: a snazzy black bow tie, a completely mismatched yet pimpin' red velvet top hat, and a nametag on his sequined tuxedo that reads "Sir Ryan Murphy Poopenmeyer III". He raps his cane on the floor twice and makes an arcing motion with his top hat towards the door, a cue for the entry of his lovely wife.

An overweight Asian man in a flowing white gown enters through the doorway. The dress is low-cut to show off his impressive man-boobs, and tattooed on his left nipple is the name Chronarion. With each step he takes, a low rumble is emitted from his formidable belly, which is noticeably split by the tightly wound corset he wears. He strides up to his husband until their faces are but inches apart, their eyes locked in a loving gaze. The two hold this position for a minute, then rub noses rapidly.

"Have you met my lovely wife?" Ryan says to the invisible audience before locking lips with the bloated cross-dresser beside him. Chronarion's tongue lashes out against Ryan's, sending bits and pieces of foamy spittle at all of his facial features with each blow. The two tongues work around each other horizontally and vertically, inside and out, forming a warm tangle of moist red flesh in between their faces.

Ryan's tongue detaches first, and treks upward on Chronarion's face. It finds his left nostril, and curiously ventures inside. It makes contact with gobs of dried mucus, softening them up. A few wayward pieces attach themselves to the tongue, tinting the saliva a slight jungle green. Chronarion snorts in ecstasy, happily inhaling the sea of spit stuck in his sinuses, and swallows it all with a finalizing gulp of triumph.

Ryan is less pleased to have Chronarion's nose droppings on his tongue, and spits them back in Chron's eye with a massive loogie. This launches the blubbery yellow man into a whole new plane of joy, who rubs the loogie into his eyeballs with a vigorous circular motion until mucus is dripping from the inside of his eyelashes.

over and over again until his transvestite wife's nose is nothing more than red mush. He takes his crying wife's head in his hands, takes a glob of the pulpy mess in his hands, and decorates his face with the bloody war paint.

Enter their fifteen year old daughter Sophia stage left, clad in tie-dye suspenders, carrying a blender and a snapping turtle in her hands. The nearly unidentifiable Chronarion turns around, the remains of his face locked in a fearful grimace.

Big mistake Chron! Ryan takes advantage of the situation, with Chron's back turned to him, and rips off the binding dress with his bare hands. At once, all three hundred pounds of hairy, sweaty, yellow delight goes plopping downward with a reverberating

Splop!

Chronarion bends over to cover his manhood, but it's too late. The snapping turtle is set loose, and grasps onto his testicles with its mighty incisors. An eruption of blood and semen pours out of the severed scrotum; veins, balls and greasy tubes of all sorts come crashing to the floor. As Chron throws his head up in pain, Ryan grabs it mid-spasm and forces it into the blender. As the turtle works its way up Chronarion's taint with many an ingrown hair lodged in its teeth, Ryan confronts Sophia with an important question.

The next day, the dishwasher had a horrifying cycle it wouldn't soon forget.

"Purée or Liquefy, my love?"

Sophia grins devilishly and thrusts down the Liquefy button. Chronarion's cries of agony are heard for blocks around as his the blades of the blender have their way with his head. If this part were to be described less thoroughly, it would seem he had an atypical day at the salon: a haircut from the scalp down, dark ginger highlights, and the closest shave ever achieved by man. The blades whipped the yellow head into a thick red froth, peppered with bits of crushed skull and chunks of brain.

Ryan licks his lips, dips his hand into the smoothie, and sucks from his palm a generous quantity of the gooey mixture. He turns to us and speaks:

"Could use a little salt!"

Both he and Sophia drop their pants and begin masturbating. Sophia's having trouble cumming, so she whistles through two blood-stained fingers for her pet dog. The bulldog rushes into the room and promptly begins fucking the girl with its gray, throbbing doggy dick. The iron shaft runs in and out of the little girl's tender pussy at dangerous speeds, the head of the shaft rapping against the top of the uterus with each thrust until Sophia delivers with a sea of feminine juices. Grateful for the dog's assistance, Sophia repays the debt by forcing its jaws open and shitting a thick (though moist) slightly yellowed log of pure cruft into its welcoming mouth.

Ryan moves over to Sophia and gathers up all her cum with a ladle, then pours it (along with his own juice) into the neck-stump of poor Chronarion. He tenderizes the mixture by pounding it deep with his dick, the windpipe eventually smashing to pieces from the damage.

Meanwhile, Dawg swallows Sophia's shit sundae and licks the rim of her asshole clean. This turns on the pooch, and prevents him from losing his rock-hard doggy erection. He hops on the girl's back and rams his penis into her asshole, giving it the buttfuck of a lifetime. Ten minutes pass of nothing but ass and neckfuck, with the occasional sip from the Brain Smoothie. The man and the dog eventually get spent, and take their relief out on Sophia... out of both ends.

Ryan Murphy vomits all over her face. The vomit is mostly yellow with a light red tint from the Chronarion smoothie, and contains a handful of undigested skull chunks. A few pieces of meaty brain get stuck in his mouth, though, so he grabs Sophia's hair and does all the coughing, gagging and dry heaving his lungs could handle to dislodge the rogue bits of brain. The gobs are expelled after a solid thirty seconds, and settle into the curves of Sophia's fine brown hair.

Sophia never tires of being treated like an animal, so her ecstasy only increases when Dawg pissed a thick golden stream of urine into her mouth and eyes. The piss in her eyes revives Sophia very suddenly from her delirious joy, and she realizes... what happened to the snapping turtle? She violently whips her head around, throwing chunks of vomit into Dawg's face, but is too late. The turtle has already bit off both of Ryan's nipples and worked its way down to his pubic carpet, an area the turtle finds much interest in. It rips hairs out by the dozen, each thread groaning as it is ripped out by the roots, leaving a little dot of blood in its wake.

Sophia lunges to help Ryan, but Dawg sinks his claws into her meaty, prepubescent thighs, sending rivulets of blood into the cleft of her vagina. Dawg laps up the blood with his tongue, pleasuring both he and his owner simultaneously, as Ryan struggles to get the turtle off his quickly flacciding penis. His attempts are to no avail, as the penis is violently ripped from his body. Ryan passes out from blood loss, and is raped by the turtle in his pelvic socket until he dies from blunt force trauma.

By now, Dawg has entered and exited every orifice in Sophia's body, and has spilled enough seed on her skin to feed a family of four.
Just now does he begin to tire. He dismounts Sophia, who is now nothing more than a quivering mass of flesh, her mind paralyzed with trauma and pleasure, her hair caked dry with vomit and semen.

Dawg rolls over, lights a cigarette, and winks at the talent agent. Jimbo walks on and closes a tiny curtain on the scene, the act ending in a puff of smoke from Dawg's cigarette of triumph.

* * *

The talent agent is awestruck. His jaw hits his desk with a resounding smack, shattering it into tiny pieces.

"Holy Mind!" exclaims Jimbo, who rushes over to help the agent gather his mouth as The Janitor cleans up the mess behind him.

"That wush shome act... wot you call it?" the talent agent asks through a mangled mouth. Jimbo drops the agent's tongue and throws on a top hat.